


Kiss Me Whole Again

by LilyFire



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Crush, F/M, Hurt, flirtation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyFire/pseuds/LilyFire
Summary: Finan tends to Eadith's wounds after she fought in battle. Tired and hurt, the two seek comfort in each other's arms.
Relationships: Eadith & Finan (The Last Kingdom), Eadith/Finan (The Last Kingdom)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Kiss Me Whole Again

The wound burned with a fierce passion as Finan wrapped the damp cloth around her waist.

“How did you like your first battle?”

Eadith gripped the cool chain mail that encircled his forearms, the links digging into her scabbed palms.

“I swear it will be my last. From now on, I will be staying in the tent”

“you showed the spirit of a true warrior” Finan’s chuckle was gentle, his fingers more so as he touched her sides tenderly.

Eadith could not help but wince with each word, “perhaps my family honored is restored. If only those who still cared for me were here to see it.”

She looked down, ashamed at the hot tears pricking her eyes. She did not notice Finan’s gaze turn soft and sad, a deep brown like the rich soil of a swift riverbed.

“They know.” Carefully, he touched the cross that hung about her neck, resting above her beating heart.

Eadith leaned into his chest, clutching his hand in her own, too tired to care as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Shh, it’s okay lass, it’s okay,” Finan rested his muddy cheek atop her halo of fiery hair, breathing in her scent of windswept grass and sweetness.

“I’m sorry,” she tried an awkward laugh, but the sobs caught in her throat.

He only clutched her tighter, surprised by the mixture of hot anger and aching sympathy that gripped him. Finan was angry at the Lord for dealing this woman such a difficult hand, angry that she had lost her family. Yet there was something else beneath that…something simmering. Her hot tears wet his neck, washing away the dirt and blood, and cleansing his own soiled heart.

“We’ll be okay, lass.” He pulled away briefly to clutch her cheeks, thumbing away the tears, “we survived so far, haven’t we?”

Eadith nodded and withdrew from his embrace, leaving his chest cold and empty. Finan cleared his throat awkwardly and scratched his head as she wiped the remnants of her pain from her face, leaving streaks of muddy blood.

“Well, I best go check the horses.”

Before he could leave, she touched his hand, soft “Finan, thank you.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, drinking in the site of her dirt-smudged beauty, before giving a curt nod and turning on his heel.

\---

Uhtred was eager to leave Winchester. It held too many bitter memories, and Edward’s temper flared too often for the warrior’s liking.

“Where will we go, Lord?”

“Cookham.”

“Always fooking Cookham,” grumbled Finan, “where’s the taste of adventure?”

“I’ve had my fill for a while,” Sihtric swung easily into the saddle, “I want to return to my wife.”

“Aye, I bet you do, and her big” he held his hands in front of his chest as though weighing heavy bosoms in his palms “feet.”

Sihtric rolled his eyes and swore in Danish, causing Finan to laugh.

“Better hope she hasn’t found a new man to keep her warm at night.”

“And is that what happened to your woman?”

The Irishman startled, turning around to see Eadith leading a white palfrey towards him.

“Never had a woman,”

Sihtric snickered and Finan stumbled to correct himself, “never had a woman like that I mean. Well, I’ve had my fill of whore o’course, I meant, a woman as in my woman.”

“Hmm.” Eadith tossed her thick braid over shoulder, “and I wonder why.”

“Did the lady just make a joke?” Uhtred’s blue eyes twinkled, and Finan couldn’t help but hate the man as Eadith’s cheeks blushed a pretty rose pink.

“Maybe we can find you a woman on the way to Cookham,” joked Osfterth.

“Shut oop Baby Monk.”

“Will you be joining us, lady?” Uhtred asked.

Finan couldn’t help but wish the man still had Aelthelflaed. A single Uhtred was a beast untamed, and the way his sapphire eyes flickered from Eadith’s breasts caused something in Finan’s chest to roil and seethe.

“If I may. I’ve been told I have the spirit of a warrior, it may come in handy,” she smiled at Finan.

“Of course you may, we go to Cookham,”

Before his Lord could dismount, Finan rushed to Eadith’s side, eager to be the one to help her into her saddle.

“Thank you for bandaging my wound,” she said softly.

It was Finan’s turn to blush, though he hoped his beard would cover the ruddy red, “’twas nothing lass, nothing at all.”

Eadith smiled again and the Irishman longed to touch her hair, stroke her cheek, graze his thumb across her pretty lips.

He cleared his throat as though it would scatter the pulsing thoughts, “let me cup your boot and lift you up that a way.”

She nodded and Finan crouched. From this vantage she looked like a saint, or the goddess of beauty his Viking friends worshipped. Her red tresses gleamed in the sun like red-gold winking from the depths of a chest, while her plum colored gown swirled about her lithe figure, the breeze teasing her slender waist and voluptuous hips.

Gingerly she placed a riding boot into his palms, and he hoisted her into the saddle. Their fingers touched momentarily as he passed her the reins. Eadith smiled her thanks and it sent Finan’s heart into a flutter.

“Let me check the saddle.” He made a show of adjusting the palfrey’s cinch, tightening its halter and stroking its forehead.

“Let’s leave Finan, _today_.” Uhtred turned his horse towards the gate, and Finan could hear his two friends snickering behind the lord.

\---

The journey to Cookham was a long one, beset with gusty winds and rain-filled potholes in the stony road. Through it all Eadith clutched her cloak tightly around her body, dreaming of a warm hearth and steaming cup of ale.

Finan rode by her side through most of it, hand on the hilt of his sword anytime something stirred in the bushes or howled across the moors.

She laughed at his tales until her side hurt, teased his Irish brogue and helped him carry wood each night they camped.

“You don’t have to do that, lass.”

“I want to. I need to be useful.”

The Irishman grumbled something about headstrong women as he swung the axe deep into the heart of the old tree. Splinters rained around him, but Eadith was enchanted by the ripple of his muscles as they glided beneath his tan skin. His shoulders and arms flexed with ease as each stroke split the solid wood. The way he moved was something of a smooth dance, the shift of his hips and arc of his back as he swung the axe. His breathing created a tempo as he moved to its rhythm.

“See something you like lassie?”

Eadith tripped over her words in her haste to pick up the wood, “I was merely waiting for an armload of wood.”

Finan eyed the heavy load at her feet, “aye, you plan on lugging half the tree in one go?”

He stooped to grab one, but cursed as its splintery shard bit into his hand.

“Finan!”

Eadith was at his side in a flash of purple, coaxing him to sit on the newly formed tree stump, “stop picking at it, you’ll make it worse.”

“How else am I s’pposed to get it out?” his thick fingers tore into the callous in a fruitless attempt to wrestle the splinter from his flesh.

“Stop,” her hands closed over his, halting his furious digging.

“I’ll do it.”

She stepped closer until her skirts brushed the inside of his knees as she stood before him. Gently, she turned his palm to the sky, sliding one small hand beneath his, the other poised to pick out the wooden shard.

Finan’s belly fluttered at the touch of her soft skin. Creamy white, soft as a lily petal, she was lady born through and through. Aye, she was tough, but Finan had never been so close to a woman of this class. The whores he had romped with had skin pockmarked with fleas and reddened from welts. But Eadith, she was soft, gentle, though he knew her delicate shell encased a heart of fire and blood of iron.

A wisp of hair fell across her cheek as she searched for the splinter hiding among the Irishman’s tattered palms. Without thinking, Finan reached up to brush it behind her ear. Was he imagining it, or did her eyes close at his touch? Before he could try again, her long nails seized the little bugger and plucked it like a weed. 

“All better,” her thumb skimmed across his palm as though sweeping away the pain.

Finan stood, the space between them a mere whisper as each heave of her bosom teased the thin shift of his tunic. Her nipples hardened and he could see her pulse quicken at the base of her soft throat.

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to her parted lips.

Eadith tilted her head to meet his gaze, pupils blown wide, though it could have been the darkening sky that made them meld with the gray of her irises.

“Think nothing of it,” her voice was hoarse, “you’ve helped me.”

As if on instinct, Finan touched the spot where her wound carved into the curve of her waist.

“How does it feel?” he was quiet, scared to startle the sanctity of the moment.

“Tender, but healing.” She licked her lips, “though I made need some help, cleaning it. I’m not well versed in battle wounds.”

Finan’s eyes twinkled, heart thundering against his chest so loud he feared she could hear it.

Before he could respond, Uhtred’s voice rang through the clearing, startling them both.

“We’re freezing our asses off! Where’s the bloody wood?”

Finan and Eadith jumped apart, scrambling to collect the wood. Their eyes met one last time, Eadith’s cheeks pinkening, and they returned to the camp.

\---

Sihtric and Uhtred had gone hunting, leaving Osferth the mind the horses. The monk-warrior was reciting Bible passages as he rubbed down the animals, too absorbed in his prayers to pay any heed.

Silently, Eadith slipped to Finan’s side. He was sharpening his sword, turning it over to admire its shine in the dim sunlight.

She hovered uncertainly at his side, unsure how to proceed.

“Finan?”

He jumped to his feet – like any gentleman does when in the presence of a lady.

“I was hoping you could help me with, um,” she touched her side self-consciously.

“Aye, o’ course.”

“There’s a stream beyond that hill,” Eadith pointed, “I have some clean bandages, if you could, um,”

“Of course,” he swept a mock bow and was relieved when she laughed, the embarrassment dissipating in the cool air.

He helped her over fallen logs as they picked their way to a large flat rock at the river’s side. Each touch of their hands sent butterflies slamming into his sides, but for all his warrior training, he couldn’t decipher her reaction.

They sat, Eadith spreading her skirts like a flower in bloom as she sat before him. Finan wasn’t sure what to do, what to expect. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman, and none so beautiful as the one in front of him.

Slowly, she draped her braid across her front, fumbling with the buttons at the nape of her neck.

“May I?”

Eadith hesitated. After Aehtelred, men had made her wary. But Finan, he was different. For all his scars and rough Irish brogue, there was a kindness that sparkled within him.

She nodded.

Finan’s fingers trembled as he slid the pieces of metal free, gulping as more of her lily-white skin was revealed.

Eadith felt goosebumps prickle her skin, whether it was from the faint chill in the air or the lingering touch of the handsome Irishman behind her, she did not know. When he reached the last button at the base of spine, she slid her arms free of the draping sleeves.

She had never been so exposed in front of a man. When Aethelred had taken her, she had been clothed. He had only cared about what lay between her legs, that womanly possession men crave to control. Eadith chastised herself for caring so much about what she looked like – here, in the dark woods, when they were just trying to survive, vanity was a foolish luxury.

Yet she couldn’t help but fear she smelled foul after days on the road, that her long hair was grungy and tangled, that perhaps she was too big or too small for his taste.

_Get a hold of yourself._

Eadith clutched the dress to her breasts, feeling the rapid beat of her heart beneath the folds of fabric.

The wound was on her left side, still partially obscured by the gown as she held it to her front.

Finan cleared his throat, “I can’t quite see it my lady, but I don’t want to offend your modesty.”

She cursed herself for making him just as uncomfortable. After all, he was doing her a favor by cleaning up her putrid wound, and for keeping her alive. And what had she done in return? Make some watery soup and carry a few logs of wood?

Eadith wanted to sob.

Finan could sense the change in atmosphere, how she tensed, how her chin trembled beneath the curtain of her hair.

Gingerly, he folded the back of her gown closed, “it’s okay lass. We’ll probably stumble upon a town in a day or two, we can find a woman to help you then.”

Fear gripped her. The wound had never ceased its aching, and the pain had spread to her ribs and across her belly. If it was infected, rotten, then she might as well have died with her brother back in Winchester.

“No.” the sternness of her voice took the Irishman aback.

“I need to see what it looks like, to ensure it’s properly cleaned,” she turned to face him, eyes afire with defiance, “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die, lass, not on my watch.”

In one swift motion Finan pulled his tunic over his head. His hair stuck up in boyish tufts, the cross at his chest swinging softly, “cover yourself with this.”

He looked away as Eadith let her gown fall into her lap, bunching the forest green tunic over her breasts.

It smelled just like him – strong and earthy with a tang of wildness and the hint of lavender he kept folded across his heart to protect him from the plague.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“of course m’lady. May I inspect the wound now?”

She deflated a bit at his clinical tone, as though she was nothing more than a battle scar to be inspected.

His palms were warm and rough as they slid across her stomach. Her skin tingled under his ministrations. Finan bent closer, his hair tickling her back.

“’Tis black and blue, bit o yellow about it. Nothing to worry ‘bout.”

He applied a slight pressure to the angry bruises and Eadith drew in a quick breath.

“But my ribs hurt, and my back.”

“Aye,” he chuckled lightly, “’tis likely because you bruised them too. You’re a warrior Eadith.”

She blushed fiercely at that.

Finan drank in the sight of her, unwilling to be bereft of her closeness so soon.

“Let me wash it.”

He silenced her protests with a glance as he fetched water from the stream. As though reading his mind, Eadith stood, offering her handkerchief and bandages.

Finan couldn’t help but stare. The gown was folded low on her hips, revealing a taut belly, the undersides of her full breasts just barely visible beneath the tunic she grasped to her chest. Her hair fluttered gently around her, reaching towards him like beckoning arms.

There was something about the way she held his tunic, his smell enveloping her. It drove him wild. Finan forced himself to concentrate on wetting the handkerchief. He tried to recite a bible verse or two to calm the swelling in his breeches, but the saints’ wisdom failed him. All he could think of was Eadith so close to him, half naked and fierce as a warrior princess.

When he pressed the bandages to her bruised side, she shuddered at the cool caress of the spring water. Finan prayed she couldn’t see the strain in his breeches.

“Does it hurt?”

Eadith clenched her jaw, her knuckles white around the tunic, “a little.”

Aye, she was a fierce one.

Finan got to his knees so he was eye-level with the angry red welts. God, it took everything in him not to grasp her by the hips, lie her down in the bed of wildflowers waving about them and show her the moon and stars. He didn’t want to fuck her like she was a tavern whore, to pound in and out of her with the fading adrenaline of battles won and lives lost.

No, this was different.

He wanted to unbind her hair, spread it like a halo about her face as he trailed kisses down her cheeks, across her plump lips, wetting her neck and traveling downwards, down to the pearl that lay between her lily-white thighs. Finan wanted to go so slow and so gentle that she would ride the waves of pleasure again and again. He wanted to feel her legs about his waist as they danced the dance old as time. He wanted to feel her grasping his shoulders as she begged him for more, his name tumbling from her lips like a prayer. He wanted to lasso the sun for her, drag it down to the riverbed so it could crown her brow. 

Finan drew in a deep breath, desperately hoping to catch the scent of wanton sweetness that wetted between her legs. 

Eadith’s heartbeat was roaring in her temples as she watched this fierce warrior kneel at her feet like a knight in a fairytale. He touched her so gently it was like a whisper across her skin, though it sent flames licking up her spine and ravaging her blood.

She wanted to press him against her, to shed her gown so she could wrap herself around his strong hips. She wanted to push him to the ground and ride him like a wild Irish stallion.

_Filthy._

Aye, but she couldn’t deny the heat that pooled in her belly. His hair waved in the slight breeze, and she longed to run her fingers through its softness.

His fingers splayed across the small of her back as he wrapped the cotton strips around her waist. She prayed he couldn’t see her shiver, but if he did, she could blame the chill in the air.

_Crack._

A twig snapped to the right.

Quick as a cat Finan leapt to his feet, pushing Eadith behind him as he whipped his sword from its sheathe at his hip.

More twigs _snapped_ – behind them.

Eadith jumped, Finan’s tunic tumbling from her hands to the earthen floor as she reached to clutch his broad shoulders.

“Stay behind me,” he breathed, his arm left outstretched to protect her, sword glinting in his right.

More rustling.

She pressed closer to him, nails digging into his biceps as horrible thoughts ran through her mind.

It was the Danes, out to slaughter them. To finish what they started. The peace had broken.

Or, it was her brother’s killer, that Viking She-Wolf with an unquenchable thirst for blood.

Maybe it was a Saxon, someone close to Aethelred, or even Aethelflaed.

A soft snarl emanated from the bushes, followed by a pair of yellow eyes.

“A wolf,” Finan breathed, then, louder, “a damned wolf!”

He stooped to pick up a handful of river stones, “go on, get outa here you bastard!”

With ease he slung the rocks, sending them whistling towards the wild animal.

Yelps followed, then more rustling as the beast darted away.

Finan let out a breathy laugh and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

“I damned near thought we were done for.”

He turned to find Eadith trembling, arms folded across her chest.

“Lassie?”

“Fine, just spooked,”

Another twig snapped and she about jumped into his arms.

“That’s a squirrel, Eadith.”

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks, and she pressed her face into Finan’s warm chest.

“Sorry.”

Muscled arms encircled her back, holding her close.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, lass, it’s been a hell o’ a week”

She fought back tears, chest heaving with the effort. She felt exhausted by it all, the adrenaline was wearing off, the panic setting in. Where would she go when they reached Cookham? What would she do?

“Lass?”

Finan cupped her cheek, tilting her chin so she met her eyes.

“Gosh I’m such a fool,” she angrily wiped away the shiny streaks

“No,” he caught her hand in his own, thumbing her knuckles as he entwined their fingers, “you aren’t. You’re brave, Aedith.”

She laughed bitterly, “I don’t feel brave. I was frightened by a squirrel.”

Finan’s chuckle resonated in his chest, she could feel it against her skin, deep and warm. It made her feel safe.

“Aye, but it was a terrifying squirrel!”

He tickled her good side and she wriggled against him, “Finan!”

The pain had disappeared from her delicate features, replaced with mirth and…relief.

“There, that’s better.” He murmured, stroking her cheek.

The mane on his chest brushed against her perked nipples, igniting the shivers once more. She placed her palm over his beating heart, melting into him as his hand slipped lower to cup her bottom.

Aedith let out a breathy moan and pressed her hips against the strain in his trousers, feeling its hardness against her belly. The heat between her legs was hotter now, almost painful as she clenched and unclenched the muscles down there.

Finan was breathing heavily as he squeezed her bum, his other hand trailing up her ribs until his thumb stroked the underside of her breast.

“Eadith,” his voice was hoarse, husky with yearning.

“Don’t stop.”

She kissed his neck, biting the tender junction of flesh at his shoulder. Eadith wanted to feel good again, she wanted _this_.

“Fook,” Finan tilted his head back as her long nails grazed down his abdomen, reaching into his trousers. She kissed the other side of his neck, under his jaw, across his collarbones.

All the while she dipped into his trousers until she grasped his manhood. It was thick and swollen, the tip already wet.

She smiled into the love-bites she left across his neck. Slowly, she swirled the slickness about his tip with her forefinger, relishing in how be bucked against her.

“Woman,” he moaned, his desperation driving her further.

She slid her hand up and down his shaft, stroking his balls as she did so. He slipped in and out of Gaelic, muttering what sounded like prayers, curses, lover’s words – it didn’t matter.

She sped up until he was gasping. Her pumps were hard and fast, her breasts jiggling with the effort. He palmed them, flicking her pert rosebuds with a pleasuring sting.

He came in a sticky rush, but she wouldn’t let him stop. Eadith pushed down on his shoulders until he got the message to sit.

She wriggled out of her gown, standing in damp smallclothes before him. Finan reached to cup her mound and she threw her head back at the pressure on her tightness.

“let me take care of you,” he begged, kissing her hips, his beard tickling her fevered skin,

His lips traveled lower as he inched off her smallclothes with practiced hands.

“Come down to me,” he murmured.

She sank to her knees at the passion in his voice. He lay upon the sand, guiding her hips until she was straddling him, knees planted on either side of his head.

He moaned in pleasure at the sight before him. The swollen, dripping rose petals unfurling before him, pink, yearning, eager, ready.

He flicked his tongue across her slit until she screamed. She had never been pleasured before, never felt anything but pain when she was with Aethelred.

“Stay with me,” Finan’s breath was hot on her pulsing core, his beard slick with her juices.

He dove in, sucking at that tight, sensitive bud. He lapped at her, licking in slow, languid strokes up and down her folds. Her breasts swayed heavily as she rocked her hips against his mouth, desperate to feel him plunge deeper.

“Finan,” she begged, tweaking and teasing her own nipples with shaking hands as he continued to feast greedily on her womanly treasure.

She screamed louder when he plunged his tongue deep into her wetness, fucking her, adding first one finger and then another. His hands were nearly bruising on her hips, but Eadith relished it. There was something about the barest hint of pain mixed with the tremors of delicious pleasure that richoted through her core.

When she felt ready to burst, her thighs clenching and unclenching in desperation, Finan slowed his tongue until he was gently lapping at the rivulets of wetness that streamed across her flush skin.

“That a lass,” he breathed, his breath fanning her taut core.

“Finan, please, I’m almost there, just – ”

Aedith moaned as he slid two of his fingers in and out of her dampness, curling them against her walls.

“Easy, lass.” He guided her to the earthen floor until she was on her back, legs spread wide, revealing the glistening rose that lay between her thighs.

Finan kissed up and down her legs, planting lingering ones on the curve of her arches, though he never ceased his ministrations.

As he moved his mouth back up, he sucked greedily on her tight, wet pearl. Aedith screamed his name and all but thrust herself on his fingers. She was on the brink, about ready to tip over the edge of this dangerous cliff and into the rolling waves of euphoria.

Finan could feel her body falling igniting with bliss, so he rocked back to his heels to watch the emotions that flickered across her beautiful face.

Aedith arched her back as she came, grasping for Finan and pulling him closer to her. He sucked the nipple of her right breast as she rode the waves of pleasure. When she came down he held her close, brushing her hair from her sweaty face.

“May I kiss ye?”

She laughed, a beautiful tinkling sound, before grabbing his face. They kissed fiercer than the wolves that howled at night, fiercer than the sound of a thousand marching drums, fiercer even than the fast-flowing Thames. Finan melted in her embrace, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest as he kissed her with all the longing he had felt since the day he saw her.

“Aedith,” he breathed when they finally broke apart.

“Yes, Finan?” she bit her lip then, and Finan felt himself harden once more.

“May I buy ye a mug of ale at the next town?”

Aedith batted her thick lashes coyly, “only if your promise to do this again,”

She moved his hand to between her thighs, already trembling at the certainty of the promise.

Finan grinned, “aye lass, let me tend to ye right away.”

His dark head bowed again as he roved down her body, and Aedith closed her eyes in pleasure.


End file.
